After stepping into Woodwick’s office and turning to close the door behind him, Ber glanced around the small room and took the chair offered to him. It felt strange to be sitting on this side of the desk, and stranger still to presumably hold some sort of conversation with the other man without some sort of table or desk or piece of furniture between them. Lightly tapping his finger tips together in his lap, he silently watched the captain collect his thoughts.

Then came the expected admonishment, gentle though it was. Ber’s gaze slid away from the captain’s, but he nodded his understanding. “Yes, sir.” Hopefully that would be the extent of it.

Woodwick’s gesture drew his attention to the papers spread across the desk, and assuming that he was meant to take a look, he quickly glanced over them to see what he could glean. Not much, if he was honest. Among the various papers, he saw what seemed like some sort of roster or list of names, something that resembled schedules, and a little map of what he thought was the village that maybe some patrol routes sketched on it. “Okay, sir.” Deadpan, the word contained the enthusiasm of a funeral-goer.

For another moment, he stared blankly at the pages before pointedly reminding himself that only the two of them knew of the Huntsman’s and Champion’s task, so if Woodwick wanted a second set of eyes on something, the responsibility would fall to him. This was for Regan and Othello, and if Ber wanted them to succeed, which he did, the best thing he could do right now was kick his reluctant brain into gear. So, with a fortifying breath, he leaned forward and pulled the map closer to him to take a better look at it. “If they’re going after Isolde,” He began, searching for landmarks on the page, “where will they be?”

Woodwick crossed the space to lean over the desk beside him, and Ber eyed the two points on the map that he indicated, trying to orient himself based off of what he’d quickly seen of the village earlier that day. Unsurprisingly, he knew practically nothing about Isolde’s home and the Sanctum. From the standpoint of preventing any witnesses from interrupting Regan, more frequent patrols around the area made sense, but on the other hand, wouldn’t a sudden increase in activity clue any Cambrians in to the fact that something was happening? Could they afford to risk it? Could they afford not to? But before Ber could really consider the questions, the captain straightened up, and the conversation skittered sideways.

Even if he avoided meeting Woodwick’s gaze, Ber didn’t miss the pointed look or the even more pointed words that followed it: a continuation of the gentle scolding from before combined with some further attempt at reassurance. He heard the words and probably would have expected something along those lines had he put any thought into the matter instead of trying to forget that it ever occurred. Why the other man seemed determined to break the one-sided, unspoken agreement to pretend that Ber hadn’t said anything the last time they’d seen each other, Ber didn’t know. Surely the captain couldn’t want to have this conversation any more than the soldier did. As far as he was concerned, that whole part of the discussion was done and over and did not need to be acknowledged any further, so, voice flat, Ber did exactly what Woodwick suspected him of doing: “Understood, sir.”

Even the people without magic were tough to kill, apparently. Wilson Barr probably disagreed with that claim.

Maybe moving on to the new Governor would distract him. That was still something to discuss, even if Woodwick seemed utterly determined to focus on other subjects. “So how do we convince them that Odina has their best interests in mind?” Ber asked after a moment. “They already don’t like us. We can say all we want about her, but that doesn’t mean they’ll believe us.” If only it were so easy. In fact, he rather expected that such an announcement would sway none of the skeptics to their side; had their positions been switched, something like that certainly wouldn’t work on him. But maybe he was on the more stubborn side.

Ber did not have a lot of experience with convincing people to listen to him. For the most part, the civilians in Skia were accustomed to obeying whatever the soldiers told them to do, and in most other contexts, he typically received rather than gave the orders. He did, however, have plenty of experience with having to abide by some guideline or rule or command that he did not like. Consequently, Ber knew all too well the difference between acquiescence to avoid an undesirable consequence and deference rooted in an actual willingness to follow orders. One made compliance far more palatable.

If the Cambrians were anything like Ber, Odina Ellis would likely have quite the uphill battle with gaining her peoples’ loyalty. But there was nothing to be done about that now except hope that the women around them were less like him than he anticipated.

Thinking back to his conversation with the elder in her humble little home earlier that day, Ber nodded as the captain brought up @grissa . If Woodwick expected the revelation that he had spoken to her as well to be surprising, he would be sorely disappointing: “Yeah, she mentioned talking to you.” And, for whatever reason, she seemed to have not realized the importance of his rank, but Ber decided that didn’t matter much in the scheme of things. He shrugged. “She was welcoming to me,” The soldier agreed. “Friendly.” Gave him tea and stew and didn’t insult him. “I think she’s one of the more traditional Cambrians? Spoke of the All-Mother a lot and isn’t happy that Isolde merged the two original leadership roles—” he forgot their names “—into one. That’s one of the reasons Grissa wants her gone.”

Here Ber hesitated, brow furrowing slightly. “She, uh, also said she speaks to Kore,” He added after a moment, the skepticism clear in his voice. “Which is how she knows that Kore was murdered.” Another pause. “So… there’s that.”

Woodwick could make of that what he would, the soldier decided. Grissa might have been a little strange, but Ber would take weird and friendly over outright hostile - or likely hostile. Certainly one of those came to mind as well. “Do you remember the one who lead the prayer at dinner yesterday, sir?” Though she hadn’t outright said anything about the faux pas, he wouldn’t forget the discomfort of belatedly discovering that they were expected to pray before eating anytime soon. “A Cambrian named Neela told me her name is @revna and that she’s Isolde’s second-in-command.” One shoulder rose and fell in a half shrug. “I don’t think she’ll be happy.”